Out Of Control

            Nehan closed his text book and covered his face with his hands. A deep sense of regret filled his overworked mind as he shut down his laptop. “I should have started earlier, I should have started earlier!” he muttered angrily to himself. He left his papers and stationeries strewn all over the table and turned off his desk lamp. Walking over to the other end of the room, he opened the refrigerator door and helped himself to a few mouthfuls of ice water. Nehan had recently been employed at a highly respected financial company as one of their accountants. This fantastic studio apartment had been one of their many offers. A few years ago, he could not even have dreamt about having friends who owned luxuries such as this one.

            The studio apartment was one of the three units available on the twenty first floor of every block of a high end condominium that consisted of four towers. Nehan stayed in the West Tower. Each studio unit comprised of its own bedroom, a bathroom, a petite corner that served as a kitchen and a vast space across the kitchen which Nehan had divided into a living room and a working area. He was promised a regular cleaning service which was available only in two weeks time. He had never been much of a workaholic but this new employment was pushing him to his limits. He succumbed to all its demands only because he knew the rewards offered were equally grandiose. It was, after all, a company with impressive international reputation and he simply had to be on par.

            Deciding he would call it a night, Nehan dimmed the lights in the kitchen, turned everything else off then walked over to the bedroom. His bedroom had been furnished to his liking, all of it paid for of course, and he wasn’t too bad with his interior designing. The bedroom was rather huge for a room that was meant for one person. It had a queen sized bed to one side, a fluffy carpet was spread in front of it, and a few metres away was a huge bathroom, that had a big bathroom that was attached to a walk in wardrobe. Nehan had always felt that white was the colour of elegance and had tried to get everything in white.

            He looked at himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. He felt a slight tinge of pride as he realized he was better looking than the average man. He admired his symmetrical features, his new French beard, and how his slightly tanned skin made him look more masculine than he actually was. Wiping his face, he stepped out of the door and dragged himself onto bed. He would need to start out for work earlier than usual the next morning. There were going to be road blocks.

            At 6 o’clock sharp, his phone crowed at a magnitude that would have put a rooster to shame. As per routine, Nehan coaxed his alarm to a snooze without even looking at it. Fifteen minutes later, it crowed again and Nehan woke up grumpily as he tried to shake his mind awake. He went through his customary morning duties, decided he looked good with his two day stubbles and blindly picked off clothes from his wardrobe. He walked out of his bedroom and entered the kitchen, clumsily stirred a packet of instant coffee into the milk that he didn’t have the time to allow to boil properly, gulped down his coffee, and walked out of his home with a tie over his shoulder and his things packed in a briefcase. If he had remembered to take his laptop, he would have realized that his table was neater than he had left it. 

            After parking the car in the basement, he took the lift up to the fourteenth floor and greeted the security guard as he entered his room. Like his apartment, his office too looked as ostentatious as possible. Eight floors were allocated to administration alone and every floor had a common pantry. He dumped his things on his table and walked over to the window to open the shutters. Nehan was fond of the sun. He didn’t like his working area to be dark and gloomy or to be drenched in fluorescent lights. He preferred the sun to project its rays into every corner of the room. He returned back to his desk and opened his briefcase. He took out his laptop and set it on the table.

            It was his habit to check the stock market before he started work every day. Finding nothing interesting to invest in this morning, he set to sorting out the pile of files on the table. His office phone rang. Expecting more work in his hands, he wearily answered the phone.

            “Good morning. Mr. Nehan?” asked a light, breezy female voice.

            “Yes, speaking,” he replied, slightly puzzled.

            “I’m calling from the bank. This is regarding a withdrawal you made a short while ago. We’re calling to make sure it was made by you because it seems to be rather far from your location and we were wondering if you may have left without informing us. The transaction amount was rather large too. We couldn’t get you on your mobile phone, so we tried your office.”

            Panicking, Nehan groped for his wallet and fumbled with the flaps and pockets as he searched for his ATM card. His heart calmed down when he pulled out the glinting silver card. He heaved a sigh of relief and focused back on his receiver.

            “I think you must have been mistaken. My card is still with me, and no, I did not make any transaction today.”

            The female voice took some time to come back. Nehan could hear the sharp clicks of a keyboard. “The system has recorded a withdrawal at 7.34am this morning sir. However, if you insist nothing is amiss then we are very sorry for the inconvenience caused. Do let us know if you need assistance with anything. Have a pleasant day sir.”

            “Thank you, and same to you,” replied Nehan.

            He sat back on his chair, his heart somewhat still jumpy. It was 8.12am now. He must have been on the way to work at the mentioned time. We couldn’t get you on your mobile phone, she had said. That was weird. He took his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it. The screen remained blank. He remembered charging it last night and he never switched off his phone. He tried turning on his phone and it showed some sign of life. There were two missed calls and a text message. The text message read:

            Your account has been debited with $5000 at 7.34am.

            Nehan froze at the words on his screen. But...that’s impossible! He checked his card again. It seemed authentic enough and it still bore his signature at the back. The phone rang again. He picked it up and the same female voice answered. This time, she sounded a bit worried herself.

            “Mr. Nehan? I’m sorry to be disturbing you again. But our security cameras have confirmed that you have withdrawn the money yourself.”

            His heart racing again, he said in a tone that sounded angrier than he was. “Look Miss...missy. At 7.34am, I was on the way to work. There is no way I could have travelled to an ATM halfway across the country then returned back here in time for work.”

            “I understand sir, which is why we would like you to drop by to have a look for yourself. You can come after working hours. The security rooms will still be open.”

            Nehan fidgeted for the rest of the day, unable to keep his nerves in check. He couldn’t take time off from work either because he was afraid it would reflect badly on him. Each time his phone vibrated with a text message he panicked. As soon as the clock ticked five, he picked his already packed things and almost ran to the lift. The lift took longer than usual to reach the bottom and Nehan drove as recklessly as he dared. When he reached the bank a security guard guided him to their control room. A woman of about average height was drinking from a mug that smelt like chocolate.

            “Mr. Nehan?” she asked with her eyebrows raised. She had friendly brown eyes and a  pretty dimple on one cheek.

            “Yes, yes. Can I see the footage please?” Nehan was surprised at the politeness he could still afford.

            “Yes, of course sir. I’m Kaushalya. We have been waiting for you and we’re terribly sorry for the inconvenience caused sir. Please have a seat.” She motioned to a chair next to her. Nehan sat at the very edge of the chair, his breath short and rapid, his imagination running wild.

            “The footage is ready ma’am,” said a man with a heavy foreign accent.

            It played on the computer screen in front of them and Nehan watched it with horror. He saw himself walking towards the ATM, and withdrawing the money. He saw himself wearing his favourite red Polo shirt, his jeans which were slightly torn at the right knee, and his pair of running shoes. But his eyes...they were a greenish brown. He mentioned this to Kaushalya and she requested the guard to zoom in on the face. It was Nehan. The new French beard, the symmetrical face, the two day stubble, the exact shade of tan...but the eyes weren’t his. Kaushalya promised to look into this matter immediately and she said she would keep him informed of the progress. Meanwhile, she offered to cancel his card. Unable to respond otherwise, Nehan merely nodded his head and left for home.

            He opened the door and walked to his working desk. He sat down on the chair and absentmindedly ran his fingers along his laptop. He suddenly stopped and looked down. The laptop bag was under his table, and its zip lay opened. He just remembered he had not brought his laptop bag to work today and yet, he had used his laptop. He looked back at the laptop on the table. He contemplated if he really wanted to open his briefcase to check if his laptop was still inside. He decided not to and ran to his wardrobe instead. The advantage of having such a large wardrobe was that everything could be organized easily. He kept all of his t shirts in one section. He searched his entire wardrobe twice but could not find his favourite red shirt. He even rummaged through his laundry and found nothing.

            A sudden clink of metal caught his attention. Not sure if his heart was still inside where it was supposed to be, he picked up his golf club from the corner of the room and slowly walked out of his bedroom. There was no one outside. He inched towards his desk and saw a mug on his table. It had a faint lipstick stain on one side and smelt strongly of chocolate.

            “Looking for something?” asked a light, breezy female voice. Nehan spun around so fast that he was unable to stay balanced on his feet.

            “Kau...Kaushalya?” sputtered Nehan. His voice hardly above a whisper, his heart definitely not where it was supposed to be. His whole body seemed to be pumping blood in every direction now.

            Kaushalya looked at him with her greenish brown eyes and grinned, revealing one pretty dimple. Clamped between her jaws, was a tiny fragment of a red Polo shirt.